


Misplaced lover

by mistress_of_shadows



Series: miles/scar shiptober challange [18]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Misunderstandings, Period-Typical Racism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-26
Updated: 2019-10-27
Packaged: 2021-01-03 14:15:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21180797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mistress_of_shadows/pseuds/mistress_of_shadows
Summary: Miles comes go to Central the day after the promised day, searching for Scar. Fearing the worst of what could have happened to his lover. A sequel to A day off.





	1. Chapter 1

Coming to with a gasp, I rolled up to my elbows as I hacked. My body shaking as I tried to force air back into my lungs. I glanced around the tent Grumman was huffing a few feet away from me, but seemed alright. Standing on unsteady feet I went to the open flap, watching as the men slowly got back to their feet. I shivered, but not from the gust of wind, rather still not feeling right in my own skin. Like I had been pushed into a partially frozen lake. I could only hope this meant everything was going well in Central.

I knew what Grumman wanted, but as my feet lead me to the nearest car I found I didn't care. The men would be fine on their own, the few that were here rather than central or the fort, I had reasonable faith that they would not kill Grumman for trying to order them around. Right now, my concern was getting to Central. The general was there, as well as half the men of Briggs. They would need the extra hand.

I only had a vague understanding of who it was we were fighting. Alchemy and its components not something I understood well. There was the other matter of finally knowing for sure where Scar was, it was too much temptation. Since that day at the hot springs he had sent a few letters. Telling me about what doctor Marcoh discovered, where Ishvalans had settled into live, how much he missed me. I couldn't send letters back due to never having a return address, or any faith that he would still be there when a letter reached the post office it had come from.

The general had scoffed at me. Stating that the trip down the mountain was supposed to be so I could get everything out of my system, not to turn into a love sick fool that let valuable resource walk away. I commented that someone in the fort had to remember what a heart was for, lest we all become as cold as the snow on the mountain. Spending a week as a lackey for the men in the research level had been a refreshing change of pace. The bridge was still out, but it was not the only way to central, if perhaps the fastest. 

"Major miles, where are you going?" Grumman asked, his voice strained as I imagined we were all having the same troubles. 

"To Central." I did not pause to hear what he had to say about that. Annoyed on principle that the car was unlocked and the keys in the glove box. A car at Briggs would not be nearly so easy to steal, keys only in the car if a soldier was next to it. But as the moon moved out of the path of the sun, and the space around me became brighter, I found I did not care. Rather simply started the engine and drove.

I had little hope of actually making it to central in time to help fight, but I simply could not stay here and wait for word from them. Better to be close and useless, then far and useless. I saw a few men shouting at me in the rearview mirror but didn't care. Scenery passed by and my mind drifted back to the letters from Scar. He talked about the hope he had for his people, our people as he always called any Ishvalan slum he found. How he was saddened to have to see them in such drastic and poor conditions, yet also relieved that so many had escaped and were thriving as best they could.

Scar talked a lot about his doubts in alchemy. The dilemma in the crossroads between wanting to be faithful to his faith that denounced alchemy, and to honor his brother and the work he died for. Unsure of what each choice would mean for his people. What I noticed a lack of was a concern about how it all related to him as a person. Scar told me of his choice to take on the full weight of his brothers alchemy, though he wasn't sure if he could ever bring himself to using it. While I wasn't sure what that meant, I had the assumption that it involved more tattoos. Not something I was opposed too, but wondered about the mental toll was for him more than anything. I just wanted him to be alright, and to see him again.

Eventually I had to pull off to the side of the road as night fell and sleep called to me. As much as I didn't want to. I would be no good if I was exhausted when I reached central, even worse off if I drifted off while driving. Locking the doors I crawled into the back seat to lay down, finding a blanket shoved in under the seat. Using my overcoat as a second blanket, I forced myself to get a few hours sleep. 

I jolted awake in a cold sweat, phantoms screams and an unnatural pull nagging at my mind. I wasn't all that enthused to find out the after effects of whatever it was that had happened yesterday. Instead, I ignored the grumble of my stomach and stretched as best I could, before putting my coat back on and climbing and into the driver's seat. It would be a long drive, but I should make it to central by midday. Turning the key I started on the journey again. Watching the rolling scenery, at the wide, untouched space, and marveling that it could be so serene knowing that something awful had happened yesterday.

It wasn't until I reached the city proper that I started seeing anything out of place. Not much, an overturned truck here, and a stall wall there, most of it either cleaned up or not touched. There was a clear path of destruction from the Armstrong manor towards Central command that I followed. I ground to a halt at the sheer damage done in the command center. The gate torn apart, and chunks of stone work littering the road. I couldn't only see much from the low vantage point, but I imagined it was worse at the epicenter of this whole damn plan. I spotted a soldier and waved him over, waiting for him to approach the car. Things being much as I had thought they might, in the time it took me to get here the fighting seemed to be over, and now it was just a matter of finding everyone. 

“Major, sir.” the soldier snapped to attention, waiting for my question. 

“Do you know where Major General Armstrong is?” I wasn't sure that the man would know her personally, but the General hardly ever managed to do things quietly and unnoticed. If anyone knew where everyone might have scattered to it would be her. 

“I’m not sure. Were they a part of the coup yesterday? I think most soldiers were sent to the First Mark's hospital. Its down this road you take the third left, and go that way for about five minutes, until you get to the general store, then take a right. The hospital will be on the left after a few minutes.” The soldier directed, I thanked him and started on my way. Mindful of the strange bits of rubble and pedestrians that seemed to be in a daze, wandering through the streets by habit more than thought. It hadn't been clear to us what would be told to the civilians about the incident. That had been Mustang's problems for the day.

Finding the hospital hadn't been as hard as finding somewhere to park, seeming half the city was crowded around the building. Once inside the reception desk was swarmed with civilians trying to ask about loved ones. Less so with nurses rushing about with patients on beds, a good sign in a hospital. I reached out to touch the shoulder of a nurse to get her attention. 

“Do you know if Major General Armstrong is here?” I asked when she turned to me. She put her finger on her chin to think. 

“There is a Major Armstrong in room 412, to treat a dislocated shoulder that was poorly relocated and a few other minor injuries. But I’m not sure about a Major General.” She flipped through the papers on a chart in her hand, shaking her head when there was nothing there. 

“How about Colonel Mustang, is he here?” he was a solid force on our side as to helping the fight, and I imagined him to be the sort to get into the thick of things as it were. I didn't trust him much, but that was a secondary concern to find out what happened, and where Scar was. 

“Yes, he is in room 201. He has had a lot of visitors as it is, so I would ask that if you visit then make it a brief trip.” She said, pointing down the hall towards where the elevator was.

“Thank you.” I gave a slight bow and headed for the elevator. I was tempted to turn back and ask her directly if there was an Ishvalan patient, but it seemed too much a risk. For one not knowing her opinions of them, and for two that I wasn't sure if things had cleared up about the Ishvalan's not staging terrorist attacks, but helping the country. I nicked a sandwich off a passing cart digging out a few coins to toss in replacement.

The second floor was near bare of people, but there was a steady flow of conversation coming from a room with the door open. I knocked on the wall standing in the doorway and waiting to be invited in. 

“Major Miles, I did not expect to see you here? Can we help you?” Lieutenant Hawkeye asked, the first to speak. Mustang was turned towards me, but his eyes were unfocused and off center, looking more at the wall than me. The blank stare of a blind man. Clearly something had happened that might be too soon to addressed so I didn't. I did not recognize the man that was at the end of his bed, with books all around him. The lieutenant had bandages around her neck. But overall, no one seemed to be in critical condition. 

“Do you know where Scar is?” of the myriad of questions that needed to be asked, ones that should be asked, and confirmed. It was the one that stood out the most. That forced its self to the front of concerns about the General and the Briggs men. 

“Why do you ask?” Mustang was the one to push back. A frown on his face and his brows crinkling with the motion, but to lax to have the real intent he meant. 

“I have questions for him?” None of these people needed to know that those questions involved, was he okay? Did he understand the stress not knowing where he was, put me under? Did he understand how much I loved him? 

“The last I saw him was yesterday. He was alive then, but wounded. It was hard to tell how badly, but he didn't seem to be doing well. I only saw him for maybe a minute or two after he fought Bradly, a fight he won. The last I knew Major General Armstrong and a few Briggs men stayed behind with him.” Lieutenant Hawkeye said I don’t know if she was taking pity on me or just more willing to cooperate. I felt like a mountain wind had swept through the room. Cold chilling me to the core. Scar was injured and the only one that had seen him was also not found. Every soldier understood how easily even minor wounds could turn deadly. Blood loss and complications a better killer than the best fighter.

“It's good you're here Major, I wanted to ask you a few things. I’m going to start a rebuild of Ishval, and I want you to help me with this.” Anything Mustang said after that I tuned out. I needed to find the General, I needed to know what happened to Scar. 

“Yes of course, sir. Send the details to the General and I will look them over. If you’ll excuse me.” I said, more a habit of respect than anything. I drifted down the hall. Someone had to know, he couldn't have left me. Scar had to be somewhere. I saw a nurse and went to her. 

“Excuse me miss, but do you know if there are any Ishvalan patients in this hospital?” I asked, it taking more effort than it should have to say in a level voice. It was still a risk to ask. An uncertainly to anytime one had to admit to even knowing an Ishvalan, given you could never understand how the other person would react, but I had to know. That ruled above all other sense and reason.

“No. I don't think so.” She said, drawing away from me slightly. I tried to center myself, but it felt like trying to hold back a flood with a plank of wood. 

“Are you sure? Can you check? He would be someone refusing to give a name.” I prompted again. Another nurse passed by and I asked her the same, but neither knew anything. Desperation clawed at me, clouded my judgement as I went from one nurse to the next. All with the same answer there was no Ishvalan patients in this hospital. 

“Sir, any Ishvalan's here are taking up space in the morgue. Now I will ask you to leave.” A woman came right into my space, crowding me away from a nurse that I admittedly had started getting too close to. My worry making me act rashly and unprofessionally. The new nurse was an older woman with a stern glare and gray hairs. It didn't need to be said that she thought that was exactly where my kinsmen belonged, and that I would only get one warning to leave. Military man or not I would be removed.

Nodding absently I left the hospital in a daze. Her words chasing themselves in my mind, mixing with those of lieutenant Hawkeye's about Scar being injured and not looking to be faring well. I sat on the steps of the hospital. Less a decision and more my knees giving out on me. I couldn't breathe. Taking off my glasses to put my hand over my eyes, as I bit my lip. Anything to keep in the tears. I couldn't cry here, not out in the open, not where there was everyone and anyone to see. I was not afforded the softness.

I had to find somewhere quiet and alone. I could drive the car out of the city, and park out in the forest, and cry and yell at the sky and god about the unfairness of it all. I would do that just as soon as I could gather myself enough to stand. Right now I was trying to cope with the thought the only time I had told scar I loved him, was the last time I had seen him. Now he was gone, and I would never see him again.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Olivier finds Miles on the steps of the hospital, and is none to happy with him. Taking the man back to her house she orders him to go to a room, and what is behind the door makes all the difference.

I rubbed my eyes. Knowing logically I should find the General before I decided on anything. She had seen Scar last, She would know for certain what had happened to him. I couldn't let my heart get ahead of my head like this. I needed to think clearly and rationally, no matter how hard that was at the moment. 

“Miles! What the hell are you doing there?” The General's voice came from behind me. I stumbled on the steps as I tried to stand into a salute, and put my snow blindness goggles back on, before she could see me eyes were red not only because of my heritage. I wasn't sure what would be worse from her, scolding or pity.

“Just taking a moment to gather my thoughts, sir.” I ended up with my feet on different steps, and using my wrong hand to salute her, but I didn't dare fix my stance. Better to hold out with confidence, then admit my mistake. It also wasn't a complete lie, the general could sniff those out like a hunting dog after a fox. 

“Oh, Now you want to stop and use that thing on top your shoulders. I called Grumman for a status report, and he tells me everyone is fine except that you decided to steal a car without a word other than your coming to central. I had to try and track you down with nothing more than a guess, and when I get here I'm told you’ve been harassing the nurses.” the General seethed, and while I thought it was a bit harsh to say I was harassing anyone, I didn't correct her. 

“Apologies sir. I thought I could be of better use here?” I stated. Taking in the sight of her, the bandage on her cheek and the sling her arm. Her pale skin shining with hastily applied makeup, where it wasn't purple or black with bruising, what little of her skin that could be seen around her uniform. Likely the efforts of some hapless servant, then the woman's own choice. I wondered at the other injuries she might have, never one to let on how she was hurt. 

“Get in the car.” the General pointed to her own car, looking like she was seconds from slugging me. Wisely, I did not argue, or mention I had a car of my own technically. Someone would notice the military vehicle eventually, and notify the nearest yard. I opened the driver's door for the general, knowing better than to offer to drive. She had gotten here by herself, and if I wanted to travel on the inside of the car, and not on the hood, I would not offer to drive. Instead, I waited for her, and then get in on the passenger side. 

“Might I ask where we are going?” I questioned once the General had gotten us onto the road. I gripped my seat, and remembered why I avoided driving with her on the best of days. I didn't think a car horn was meant to be used to so much, and it certainly could not be good to have the wheels squeal like that. 

“My house.” the General grumbled, nonplussed as she skidded around a corner, narrowly missing the sidewalk. “You really are a helpless fool Miles. I thought I trained you better than this. Leaving your post without a plan, or a word of agreement to anyone, and for what?” she glanced at me, and I really wished she would keep her eyes on the road. 

“To help sir.” I stated. The general snorted at me, but didn't say anything else. Her eye's on the road, and I felt slightly safer in that. The city seemed so much smaller as we drove, the shops and building whizzing by, quickly melting away into the wider space of the edges of the town, and soon the large well-trimmed hedges of the Armstrong mansion came into view.

Gravel spitting along the driveway as the General stopped in front of the entrance. She threw the keys at the first person she saw as she exited the car. I followed her, as was our natural rhythm. The General leading, and the rest of us falling into place behind. It was relaxing normal and simple after the last month. The general had been away in central to sort family matters, and insinuate herself inside the command center. Wanting to be close to the enemy and have the best spot to attack from.

Now things could go back to as they should be, with a few exceptions that were likely to come from the fallout of events. The General turned towards me sharply. I wanted to ask her where the rest of the men were. The last I had known they were hiding in her basement here, and wondered if she might still be making them put up with the darkness, I’m sure Buccaneer would be putting up one hell of a fit about that, but there was something about the general that stopped me from asking.

A pinch of her brow, she opened her mouth to say something, but shook her head. Hesitancy from her was unusual, and it made my hairs stand on end. I knew it was unlikely that everyone could make it out alive from the fighting. It was nigh unheard of for there to be a battle that did not have casualties on both sides and her reluctance had me wondering at how many we had lost. 

“Go up the stairs, third door on the left.” the General said instead, pointing to the staircase at the back of the foyer, and turned to head for some other dark corner of the house. I want to follow her or ask what was in that room, but I sighed instead. The general was like a prickly cat when injured, and anyone was likely to get bitten for annoying her. So, I went up the stairs and counted the doors until I got the right room. Biting my lip I took a moment to wonder what was on the other side.

Likely Buccaneer hurt, but with more than ready to nag me about missing out on the action. I had a flash of hope that it might be someone else, someone I longed to see. Taking a deep breath to steady myself, I entered the room without a knock, and had to grip the door handle to keep my knees from giving out on me for a second time today.

On the bed, peaceful as anything, was Scar. He was asleep, the rise and fall of his chest something I could subtly notice. A well earned rest if the bandages on his arm and shoulders were anything to go by. I put a hand over my mouth to stifle a sob, not wanting to wake him. I tossed my glasses and gloves on the dresser as I passed by. Wanting to see him clearly and touch him, feel his skin under mine. I rounded the bed to his side, kneeling on the ground. With a shaky hand, I took his and put my fingers to his wrist. Crying softly in relief as I counted the steady beat of his pulse.

My shoulder hitched as I soundlessly cried, dread clearing from my heart as I looked Scar over. A bit battered, bruises showing on his skin some a darker black against his rich brown, others harder to find, a scrap here and there to go with the bandages, and new lines of alchemy on his left arm, but it all meant he was alive. I leaned my forehead against the bed. Trying not to wake Scar but could stop the well of love and longing that had built up over these last few months. I stiffened for a moment as a hand brushed over my hair, careful to not snag any of the strands. Scar shushed my softly meant to calm, but I could only cry harder. My heart so full and so happy, and relieved that he was here after the brief time thinking I had lost him. 

“It's alright, my love. I am safe. It looks worse than it is. I will be fine if with a few new scars.” Scar hummed, his voice sleep thick. I had a small pang of regret for waking him, it was drowned out by everything else. Love, longing, happiness, worry, a touch of anger, a torrent of emotions I had no interest in sorting at the moment.

“I’m sorry, I didn't mean to wake you.” I sat up and brushed tears off my cheeks, but couldn't seem to stop them from flowing. Scar brought a hand up to my cheek, swiping at the moisture to clear it away.

“I missed you too, and I’d rather you in the bed next to me, then on the floor. I’m not sure I’m worthy of the worship you give me.” Scar’s smile was soft and I shrugged off my overcoat and jacket not caring that they dropped to the floor. I struggled with my boots, near tripping myself in my haste and having to sit on the edge of the bed. Scar shifted, trying to sit up some to accommodate me, but the action had him hissing through clenched teeth. 

“Don't move. Your hurt, where all were you injured?” I asked, only in part to know where not to touch, but also to understand what had happened. 

“I was cut on my shoulders, my right arm, and my right side. Other than that I have more bruises and sore places than I care to count.” Scar was more honest than I expected him to be. Perhaps it was the tiredness that still clung to him, or may a show of his love and trust in me. I crawled into bed with him, on his left. I kept him from shifting more or lifting his arm as I carefully put my own over him and coaxed him into leaning against me. He had only managed to half sit up, and was now resting his head on my chest. 

“It sounds like you gave them one hell of a fight. I heard you fought Bradley, did he give you most of these?” I played with the short strands of his hair, wondering if it would be so easy to get him back to sleep. It would be the best thing to help him recover. 

“Yes. There were other combatants, but Bradley was the one that did the most harm. At certain points I wasn't sure if he was toying with me, or if he was that weak from his other wounds. I don't think I could have faced him if he hadn't already come in injured. It was through Ishvala's grace that I won.” Scar relaxed against me melding into my side as he talked, his eyes drooping. I wanted to tighten my hold on him, to be sure he was here and safe, but I didn't for fear of agitating his wounds. 

“I think there was a good deal of your own strength and resilience that helped.” I smiled, brushing my fingers through Scar’s softer stubbly undercut, a shiver running through him. Scar laughed mumbling something in Ishvalan. I’d tried to learn more of the language since he had left, but my success had been limited. Both by the lack of anyone to teach, and lack of books that could help one learn, or any books in Ishvalan that I could find. I gave a questioning hum. 

“I said Ishvala is ever graceful and forgiving to bring you into my life, his gifts never-ending.” Scar said softly. His breath slowly leveling out again as he started dozing on my chest, lulled by my own steady breathing. 

“He has one more gift for us then, as mustang intends to start a rebuild of Ishval and has asked for my help, and now I ask for yours.” I said, rubbing his shoulder at the curve, as far from the bandages as I could manage. Scar stiffened under my hand, but I thought it less from the touch and more my words. 

“I could not, I am not,” Scar started, but I cut him off with a sigh. Not wanting to listen to him berate himself for the past. What had been done was done, and it was time to move forwards. 

“The death of a culture, is the death of its people. I do not know much of Ishvala's culture or ways, and I can hardly lead them without someone who does. Would you leave our people to suffer a slow death? Now, after everything else that you have done, and sacrificed? This is what you would abandon them, over the chance to heal?” I tisked. Knowing it's a bit of a low blow given how much he loved his people, and a lot of his doubts came from thinking he had disappointed them. But right now I didn't want to have a long drawn out conversation about it. 

“No. I will not abandon our people. You will have my help, love.” Scar smiled, nuzzling closer to my side. He was slightly cold, but it was expected a side effect of blood loss, and my body warmth would help him. 

“Will you now tell me your name, since everything is over, and we can return to Ishval.” I didn't want to call it home. That term was still reserved for Briggs, and it probably would be for a long while yet. But I could see myself calling anywhere he was, a home at some point in the future. 

“I’ve died twice now, I no longer have any rights to a name. Call me what you like.” Scar hummed. His eyes slipping closed, drifting off into a peaceful slumber. I rolled my eyes good naturally. I thought husband would be a good name for him, maybe not just yet but soon. I’d have to come up with something else for the public, because I wanted to be the only one calling him that.

It no longer mattered if we were in Briggs, or Ishval, or never left the General's property, I did not want Scar anywhere but my side. I did not want anyone else to call him lover. It had been a long time since I had decided to claim anything for myself so sternly, but Scar was mine, and I would defend that now or in our far flung future. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well there is this one done, and I think that's all I'm going to put for that one. So, if you got something to say you know the drill.

**Author's Note:**

> Since it was princess that wanted the two of them to get more quality time together, I went ahead with the idea I had for the sequel. Also I'm sorry. If you like this or have anything to say put it in the comments.


End file.
